Chapter 5: The Proxy Form
I had the documents on my phone screen by six-thirty.
Robert had photographed every page Daniel left with him — seventeen pages in total.
Share transfer records.
Internal memos.
Dates, amounts, account numbers.
And at the back, a single handwritten note in Daniel's writing that made my throat close.
*If something happens to me, give this to Claire.
Not to my father.
Not to anyone in the family.
Claire only.*
He had known.
He had known something might happen, and he had tried to reach past it.
I sat with that for exactly two minutes.
Then I got up and washed my face.
Leo woke at seven.
I helped him dress and told him we were going to have breakfast with Grandpa Arthur, and that today might be a little boring for him because the adults had some paperwork to deal with.
"Is Grandpa Arthur really sick?" Leo asked, pulling on his second shoe.
"He's not well," I said.
"But he's stronger than people think."
Leo considered this.
"Uncle Julian said Grandpa might not have much time left."
"Uncle Julian says a lot of things."
Leo looked at me.
He was nine, but he had his father's eyes — careful, measuring.
"You don't like Uncle Julian."
"I love you," I said.
"Put your other shoe on."
By eight-thirty, the house was already filling.
Two cousins I barely recognized arrived from somewhere.
The uncle who had called Leo the Sterling heir sat in the front room drinking coffee and checking his phone.
Martha moved through the kitchen with the quiet efficiency of someone who had rehearsed this morning many times in her head.
She set a plate in front of Leo and smiled at him.
"Your favorite," she said.
"Scrambled eggs."
Leo looked at the plate.
"How did you know they were my favorite?"
Martha's smile didn't waver.
"Your father told me, years ago."
I watched her hands as she moved back to the counter.
Steady.
Practiced.
She had intercepted Arthur's letters.
She had managed him for months.
She had cried on the phone to bring me here.
And she had made my son scrambled eggs.
Julian came downstairs at nine.
He was dressed well — a dark jacket, pressed shirt.
He looked like a man who expected the day to go smoothly.
"Claire." He crossed the room and kissed my cheek.
"Did you sleep well?"
"Well enough," I said.
"Good." He poured himself coffee.
"Mr.
Graves will be here at ten.
It's a simple process — shouldn't take more than twenty minutes.
We just need your signature on the proxy authorization, and then Leo's future is properly secured within the family structure."
"What exactly does the proxy authorize?" I asked.
Julian looked at me over his coffee cup.
The smile stayed in place.
"It allows the family trust to manage Leo's inherited shares until he turns twenty-five.
Standard practice.
Protects a minor's assets from outside interference."
"And who controls the family trust?"
"The board.
Which I chair, as Daniel's next of kin."
"Daniel's next of kin is Leo," I said.
A brief pause.
"Legally, as a minor, Leo requires adult representation."
"He has adult representation," I said.
"He has me."
Julian set his cup down.
"Claire.
I understand this feels complicated.
You've been managing alone for four years and that's — admirable.
But these are significant assets.
Complex financial structures.
You don't have the background to —"
"To what?"
He stopped.
"To understand what I'd be signing?" I kept my voice even.
"Or to understand what I'd be giving away?"
The room was very quiet.
The uncle in the front room had stopped checking his phone.
Julian's expression shifted — just slightly, just enough.
The warmth didn't leave his face entirely, but something underneath it went flat.
"I think," he said carefully, "that you're tired from the journey.
Why don't we wait until Graves arrives and he can walk you through it properly?
He's very good at explaining these things simply."
"I'm sure he is," I said.
I looked at Martha.
She was standing at the counter with her back to us, very still, not moving at all.
At nine fifty-five, a car pulled into the drive.
I excused myself, went to the guest room, and called Robert.
"Graves just arrived," I said.
"I know.
I'm parked on the road at the bottom of the hill."
I stopped.
"You're here?"
"I drove up last night after we spoke.
I wasn't going to leave you to handle this alone." A pause.
"Claire, I need you to do something before you go back downstairs.
I need you to tell Julian you want to read the proxy form yourself before anyone explains it to you.
Don't let Graves summarize it.
Read every page."
"Why?"
"Because on page four there is a clause that transfers voting rights — not just management rights.
If you sign that form, Julian controls every decision about Leo's shares until Leo is twenty-five.
Leo gets the money eventually, but Julian makes every vote in the meantime.
Including the vote on the land acquisition that closes next month."
"What land acquisition?"
"The one Julian has already committed to personally," Robert said.
"Using company funds he doesn't yet control.
He needs those voting rights to ratify the transaction retroactively.
Without your signature, the deal collapses and he is personally liable for the shortfall."
I sat down on the edge of the bed.
"How much?"
"Enough," Robert said, "that losing it would end him."
Downstairs, I heard Julian's voice, and then a second voice — smooth, professional, the voice of a man who did this for a living.
"Mrs.
Sterling?" Julian called up.
"Mr.
Graves is here."
I stood up.
May you like
"Robert," I said quietly.
"Come to the front door in ten minutes."
